Poison
by Renshai
Summary: WARNING: YAOI! IF YOU DUN LIKE IT, DUN READ IT! Yohji and Aya are having some relationship troubles...Yohji's an idiot. Of course, Omi has to save the day! Enjoy!
1. Default Chapter

**Poison**–songfic: "Poison" by Alice Cooper using Yohji/Aya sequel to "As Lover's Go"' Which...I no longer have on my computer... ;;;

Key to reading: _thoughts_ song

Aya slipped into the cascade of steaming water just after hitting the button on the stereo he'd balanced precariously on the too-small counter. It was really Omi's, the boy sometimes listened to it when he took his shower in the mornings. It helped him wake up for school.

But where the youngest Weiss boy chose pop rock or the occasional solid gold oldies CD, Aya chose something rather different. All the lights were off and even the small window had been covered by a thick towel. If there was one thing Yohji had taught him, it was that occasionally complete darkness suited the mood. _Yohji..._

The beat of ominous sounding drums in accompaniment with mellow guitars picked up, moving slowly toward its climax. Faster the drums beat, more baleful sounded the guitars and then a whispered voice addressed the darkened bathroom. "Be careful with that axe Eugene..."

This was what Aya had been waiting for. He reached out of the water and cranked up the radio, he braced his arms against the wall and let the liquid heat pour over his back and soak into his hair, red locks plastered to his cheeks. Three or four beats passed by in the music and then the most horrible blood-curdling screams filled the air. Aya had heard many screams in his life and these were some of the worst.

He loved them.

As each scream rose and fell so did his own voice. He screamed until his entire chest ached and his throat was raw. And then he screamed some more, the tears streaming down his face hidden by the steaming water.

Slowly the song ended, the echoes of the last screams died away and Aya relaxed, limp and exhausted against the shower wall. The ache in his chest and throat lessened as did the stress on another ache in heart. _Yohji..._

Aya swallowed hard around the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat. He pushed water-laden strands of bloody silk from his face, ran the same hand down his face and worked through a miasma of other nervous actions designed to release tension. It was best not to think of his blond comrade.

Comrade. That made Aya chuckled to himself. After all of Yohji's pretty words, after they'd become lovers andafter Yohji had tricked Aya into falling in love with him, that's all they were: comrades. Not even friends, damn him! Aya wasn't quite sure which "him" he was mentally damning. Himself or Yohji, _he_ was the one that had fallen in love with him after all.

"Idiot..." He whispered into the dark before going about finishing up his shower.

☼

"Yup." Yohji confirmed, leaning against the bathroom door with an unlit cigarette held between his fingers. He did this more often than he should, listened to Aya bathe. Watched him when he practiced his swordsmanship. He knew why the redhead was so quiet–quieter than normal–now. He knew why he threw himself into every mission he could as if the thought of staying at the house more than two nights in a row would kill him. He knew...it was his fault.

_Your cruel device...you cowardly bastard. _He thought walking down the hall away from the bathroom door and pulling his lighter from his pocket as he went. He was a bitch, plain and simple.

It had been almost a month now since Aya had caught him with another man and Yohji hadn't even figured out _why_ he'd been with another man in the first place! No...that was a lie. He knew why but he was scared to even think about it. If he thought about it too much he might start to believe in his delusions.

He took the first blessed puff of his cigarette and let it out slowly, muscles he hadn't realized were tensed relaxing as the nicotine reached his bloodstream. He could remember that night so well, Aya drawn by moans and screams to the livingroom in the Weiss house. The look in his shocked and hurt amethyst eyes as he found Yohji in the middle of his climax on top of some little brunette whose name Yohji couldn't even remember–if he'd even asked for it before fucking him senseless. Yohji could never remember seeing so much emotion at once in the stoic man's eyes, he'd looked...broken.

_Your blood's like ice, Kudou, you could have told him why..._ But he was a coward, he'd always be one and from now on he'd always be hiding from the little redhead. _One look could kill..._ Ever since that night Yohji had been hiding from those eyes and not because those violet eyes regarded him with any malice, quite the opposite, they simply asked "why?" That night Aya had shouted a lot of things, said some things that Yohji knew he didn't mean and also some things that he feared very much he did.

"Why, Yohji? Why? Is my pain your thrill? Didn't I love you enough? This was all a fucking game to you, wasn't it! Let's see how long you can drag along the poor pathetic bitch that was stupid enough to fall for your god damned lines?" Yohji shut his eyes tight trying to fight off the worst of that night but to no avail. "Please Yohji...I love you..."

He heard doors opening and closing inside and knew that Aya had retreated to his bed for the night. Yohji set his jaw and nodded to himself before throwing his cigarette to the ground and stomping in out. Tonight. Tonight he'd finally break the silence and explain why. Tonight.

He squared his shoulders and waked back into the house going toward Aya's room. The door was closed, of course, and the light was off. Aya always went to bed early these days, probably to avoid Yohji. The blond raised his hand to knock but found almost immediately that he couldn't. His hand found its way to the doorframe instead and his forehead pressed to the door...again.

Same thing, every night that Aya was actually here for the last three weeks. He was such a coward! Worse than that, he was a monster for letting the one person he loved in the world go on believing that Yohji had used him for nothing more than a quick lay. All because he was chicken shit, all because he was afraid to say those three committing words in return.

"I want to love you but I'd better not touch." He whispered to the door holding no hope that the swordsman would hear him. He'd said the same thing every night. This was becoming his new routine, his mantra.

"I want to hold you but my senses tell me to stop. I want to kiss you but I want it too much. I love you but I'm so very afraid of that feeling burning in my chest every time I think of losing you so...I lost you and the hope is that eventually the ache will one day go away but...I doesn't. It's only gotten worse but I still...I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

Tears that he denied access to his cheeks burned at Yohji's green eyes as he moved toward the second part of his routine. He made sure he looked perfectly casual as he made his way into the back room and poked Omi in the shoulders. He was hunched over a book, probably on of the sappy romances that he always read and making a valiant effort to hide his red nose and puffy eyes, evidence that he'd been crying.

"Kiddo, you've gotta stop reading those bodice rippers if you're gonna cry every time."

Instead of insisting that he hadn't been crying as Yohji had been almost certain he would, the boy merely nodded and gathered up his things. "I'm going to finish up my book downstairs and head to bed if you don't mind watching the security cams again tonight."

"Nah, s'cool with him." He come and watched the cams every night since he'd started coming to Aya's door and failing his explanation. Sometimes, at first, he'd had to kick Omi out but eventually the boy had gotten used to Yohji's nightly vigil and as often as not came up with an excuse to leave him alone.

As soon as the door closed, Yohji started fiddling with the wiring, hooking up to a camera that only he knew about. Aya's room. Yohji turned all of the TVs to the same channel and adjusted it from sixteen tiny Ayas to one big one spread out over all the connected screens.

He was asleep as Yohji had thought he would be but he was in the middle of a nightmare or something because Yohji could see the sweat standing out on his pale chest and how his long graceful legs tangled in the sheets. _Please, don't be dreaming of me._ Yohji begged silently.

☼

"Yohji..." The name softly whispered by Aya's sleeping lips as his exhaustion pulled him deeper into a dream that he fervently wished to have no part of.

"Yes, little Aya?" Green eyes smiled up at him and Dream Aya found himself standing at the food of his own bed with a gloriously naked Yohji stretched casually upon it.

"You can't be here. I don't want you here!"

Dream Yohji smirked. "You're lying, you still want me just as much now as you did the first time. If anything, you want me even more."

Aya chewed his lip, his dream form showing more emotion than he ever would, and let his eyes cautiously explore the memory of Yohji's form stretched out before him. Superb as it always had been, all green and gold–his Yohji. _I want to kiss you but your lips are venomous poison._

"Come on, Aya, I won't hurt you. I love you. I'll prove it, kiss me."

That smiling face, Aya couldn't resist. Besides, he knew it was only a dream and he was allowed to dream, wasn't he? _You're poison running through my veins. You're poison._

He was swallowed then by the dream sensations and wishes that for a moment Aya allowed the fantasy of coming true. He was trapped and he didn't much care at the moment. _I don't want to break these chains_.

He moaned as a hot mouth seared over his neck and well-remembered hands burned over his body. _Your mouth, so hot. Your web, I'm caught. Your skin, so wet. Black lace on sweat._ So many images and concepts flashed through his dreaming mind, so many dreamed sensations and emotions that Aya couldn't fully comprehend. "Yohji..."

☼

Aya was twisting and writhing on the bed more actively and Yohji was starting to get concerned. If this was a really bad dream he should be there to soothe the little swordsman when he woke. But...he wouldn't want him there, he'd probably turn to _Schuldig_ before he even thought of Yohji.

Aya's face turned toward the camera as he twisted around once more, fighting the blankets that embraced him. "Yohji..." He saw it, the syllables curving on his love's lips. His name. _He needs me. I hear you calling and it's needles and pins...I'm coming, you need me and this time I won't back out._ Yohji promised himself leaving the back room hurriedly and racing down the hall–as fast as he could without running–toward Aya's room. _He needs me. He needs me._ Kept repeating over and over in his head giving him the courage he hadn't before.

He turned the corner, close to the master swordsman's room just in time to see Omi knocking and being granted entry. Yohji's blind-rush stopped short and he thought he heard something in his chest shatter and die.

Omi was there before him.

Omi was the one to comfort his love while Yohji was force to slink back into the dark. He returned to the surveillance room and fixed the camera's so they showed what they normally would. Showed something other than the way Aya clung desperately to Omi while the boy stroked the wine-red silken hair of Yohji's one and only love. Aya was so strong so much of the time but his nightmares...Yohji _should_ have been there...but he'd never be there again. It wasn't his place anymore, he'd _willingly_ ruined that.

He'd been fighting it so long, pretending it'd go away for such a long time that he wasn't quite sure when the tears had started falling from his eyes and landing in rough-patterned circles on the console. He'd lost him. Even when he was calling his name, Yohji couldn't go to him–Aya didn't need him to.

Jesus Christ! He was such a fucking idiot! The whole reason he was in this mess was because of the morning just before he'd been caught with the nameless brunette when he'd realized just how much he loved the stoic redhead. Sure, he'd said those words before but they had always just been words, he'd not been able to say them and actually mean them. He'd been so scared of that overwhelming feeling that he'd not been able to deal with it. When he'd been caught it had been because he'd _wanted_ to be caught.

He'd wanted to chase the swordsman away so that he wouldn't feel the things he did when he looked into those violet eyes. He'd wanted to deny that he felt what he really felt: love. It seemed now that in denying that love he'd lost it. _Why did I try to hurt you, little Aya? I want to hurt you just to hear you screaming my name. Don't want to touch you but you're under my skin... _Yohji had been wrong before in thinking that Aya needed him, it was he who needed Aya, he'd been stupid to ever think otherwise...

At about 6am Omi came in, Yohji had fallen asleep at some point he couldn't remember and the boy woke him up and told him to head to bed when he came to get the homework he'd left there the night before. Yohji, still physically and emotionally drained, went without argument or comment beyond an accepting grunt when the youngest Weiss boy mentioned that he "looked like Hell."

He felt worse than Hell, he felt that it had walked all over him three times before fucking him hard for at least a week. God was probably in on the gang bang too. Yea, that was almost an accurate description of how he felt. He stumbled his way to his room, surprised that he could still feel a heart beating in his chest after the horrors of the night before.

He passed Aya's room and wondered if he was still asleep. He was probably up already and off avoiding him somewhere. Why did he ever think that chasing Aya away was a good idea? He fought the burning of tears he would have sworn he was too dehydrated to form and rushed to his bedroom and to his bed. To dreams in which Aya was still held in his arms.

☼

"How long has he been in there?"

"Well, I told him to go to bed just before I left for school this morning and I don't think he's come out since." Omi's high, boy's voice replied to Aya's quiet interrogation. "Did you talk to him about what I showed you?"

Aya shook his head tersely, his eyes stoic, though Omi knew that the swordsman was anything but. He'd been there last night when Aya had woken up crying for Yohji. He love him and now they both knew that Yohji loved him in return. Something they'd found out just in time for Yohji to slip into a violent bout of depression. Woo frickin' hoo. "You listened to the tape I left you?"

Aya nodded and let his head hand at the lower end of the motion, his blood-colored hair sliding in front of his face. "Many times..."

"He's too scared to approach you. You'll have to go to him."

Aya smirked a bit, "Well, Yohji has always been chicken shit." He looked up at the door and Omi could feel the resolve in the man's heart. When he turned to face him Omi was sure that his stoic amethyst eyes were a bit softer than he'd seen them since he and Yohji had split. "Thanks, kiddo, for being such a curious meddling brat."

Omi grinned impishly. "You're wel–" he was cut off by soft lips on his, teasing, tasting, sucking softly and pulling away with a knowing smile.

"Thanks again, I hope you find someone that makes you just as happy as Yohji makes me."

Omi was too dizzy to do anything but nod and smile. Aya gave him a little push and he somehow managed to stumble down the hall to his own room. He prayed that one day the one he loved would kiss him like that but he doubted it. Ken hardly knew he existed but maybe...someday.

Aya walked back to his own room and gathered up a few things, tucking them under his arm before heading back to Yohji's door. He didn't bother knocking, he just picked the lock and slipped inside. Yohji slept undisturbed curled around a body pillow that Aya had always picked on him for owning.

Aya smirked, Yohji Kudou _would_ be the only Weiss member that could sleep through an intruder slipping into the room. Setting the things he'd brought along on top of the dresser he quickly stripped of his clothes, folding them and leaving them on the foot of the bed.

With great patience he coaxed the pillow from Yohji's arms, when he pulled it completely free the blond man whimpered, his expression pained. "No! Aya!"

Aya smiled shaking his head. "Oh hush, you big baby. This is so not good for me..." He whispered to himself, slipping under the covers and into a whimpering Yohji's tanned arms. _You're poison. Running deep inside my veins, burning deep inside my veins–poison._ Aya smirked and pressed a small kiss to Yohji's lips enjoying the taste of his chosen poison before settling down into those wonderful, strong arms. Aya hadn't gotten much sleep the night before and he was damn well going to enjoy it now, especially since he was back in Yohji's arms.

☼

Yohji woke up around quarter after nine, he wasn't exactly sure of the time because his clock–alarm and all–had been thrown across the room at some point a few weeks ago. It was definitely after dark though, he knew that much.

He started to slide out of bed but his arm–which he just then realized was numb–was trapped under something. His body pillow? A pillow was definitely lighter than this. Anger flared in him, thinking he knew who it was in his bed. "Damn it, Ken! I've told you a hundred times–_I will not have sex with you_! Stop sneaking into my bed at night!"

The weight in his arms shifted around and pressed a slender finger to his lips. "Shut up, you. I'm trying to sleep."

"A-aya? What are you–"

"You're not going to let me sleep, are you?" Aya asked, sighing long-sufferingly before sitting up in the bed. "Could you find my pants for me? They're somewhere at the foot of the bed..."

Yohji sat in stone-ish confusion, about as intelligent as a piece of statuary. Aya was in his bed. No–He corrected himself as Aya crawled out of his blankets and down to the food of the bed–_naked_ Aya was in his bed. "I'm dreaming, aren't I?"

Aya's cool violet gaze drifted over to regard Yohji with some amusement. "No. Because if this was one of _your_ dreams Yohji Kudou, I'd already be moaning and writhing on the sheets. I've listened in on a few of your dreams. You talk in your sleep, moan a lot too."

Yohji blushed and looked away when the redhead pulled on a pair of jeans, concealing that perfect ass in thick denim. "What are you doing here?"

Aya turned to him, flipping on a light and smiling. "'I want to love you but I'd better not touch. I want to hold you but my senses tell me to stop. I want to kiss you but I want it too much.'" The redhead, clothed only in jeans curled up in the bed, his head on Yohji's lap. "Sound familiar?"

Yohji choked to hear his own words thrown back at him and he could only nod mutely. Aya stood and walked over to the dresser picking up the things he'd brought and carrying them back to the bed. He curled comfortably into Yohji's lap and flipped the power switch on the laptop in his lap. "You know...eventually we're going to have to deal with our problems ourselves rather than letting Omi meddle around for us...He's been watching you, taking pictures and such. Just last night he put a listening device outside my door because he'd been curious to know if you were saying anything important or just touching yourself inappropriately."

Yohji was starting to wake up from his daze and he wrapped his arms around Aya's waist with a familiarity he'd feared had been lost forever and was exceedingly grateful to all things holy–including the Pope's padded toilet seat–that he was allowed to once again indulge in.

"He came to me last night with the recording and pictures of you outside my bedroom, leaning on the bathroom door, watching me practice, watching me eat breakfast. That last one's a bit scary because I happen to _know_ you've got a dinner table fantasy..."

"So the little sneak wasn't crying about that damn book last night after all?" Yohji blushed and wound his arms a little tighter around Aya. "Aya...I'm sorry."

"I know, teddy bear, don't worry about it. It's fixed now."

Yohji shook his head, golden strands of hair falling down to caress Aya's cheek and making the swordsman shiver. "It's not. Not yet. I have to tell you, before anything else is said or done, I love you. With all my heart, I love you and I never want to repeat this past month ever again."

Aya turned in his arms and pressed him back on the bed, his entire body pressed intimately to Yohji's. "Good. Neither do I...I love you too you chicken shit fuck-tard."

Yohji grinned. "Those are fighting words."

Aya's grin was no smaller than Yohji's. "Oh? Care to try an' take me down?"

"Oh, with much pleasure little Aya."

Aya had just enough time to put the laptop and tape recorder on the floor before strong arms were pulling him back and pinning him to the bed. "I'm so sorry that I ever tried to push you away. Forgive me, little Aya?"

Violet eyes smiled love up at him and Yohji wasted no time in claiming soft lips, his fingers sliding through blood-colored silk while his other hand slid over stomach and hip that his nerves remembered so well even if while they'd been apart Yohji had been certain he was forgetting.

_I want to love you but I'd better not touch, I want to hold you but my senses tell me to stop. I want to kiss you but I want it too much. I want to kiss you but your lips are venemous poison. Poison, running through my veins, you're poison..._

Minutes passed, maybe hourse,Aya knew he'd never be sure howlong but he found his body curled lovingly around Yohji's. "I love you too, you coward."

Yohji grunted in exhaustion and pulled him a little closer, tiny sleepy kisses pressing to the corner of Aya's mouth. Aya smiled softly and turned towards those kisses and just enjoyed that softness for a moment before settling in Yohji's arms. It would be good to wake up in them once again.


	2. How're You Gonna See Me Now?

**How You Gonna See Me Now:** Ken/Omi semi-spinoff from Aya/Yohji fics "As Lover's Go" and "Poison" Ken boinks Omi and then leaves on a mission he expects to die on, without telling his new lover.

"Okay, what the f-uzz is going on?"

"You know, Omi, you're a big boy. You can use the word fuck if you want." Ken teased. "You can say fuck, get fucked, fuck back. Anything you bloody fucking want."

As he spoke a hungry quality had inhabited Ken's voice at once scaring and enticing the youngest member of Weiss. "Okay, what the _fuck_ are you doing in my bed? Jesus Christ! Did you get drunk again and mistake my room for Yohji's?"

"I've never mistaken your room for Yohji's! Yours is much too neat and pretty to be his. And it doesn't smell like sex all the time. Of course...it _could_ smell like that if you wanted it to."

Omi's heart leapt up into his throat but he forced himself to remember what was happening was only happening because Ken was drunk and horny. "That's very sweet of you to offer Ken, but I really think you should leave."

Ken nodded and tried to roll out of the bed and up onto his feet. He smacked his head on the bed post with an audible _thump_. "Ow! Fuck!" He turned back to Omi and smiled lazily. "See, Omi? You can say it like that too!"

Omi winced and walked over to him. "You're wasted, you idiot. DO you even need a reason to get drunk or do you just go out and do it?" He asked, in a perturbed and concerned voice, untangling the blankets from his inebriated.

It was then that he made a very shocking discovery. Ken wasn't wearing anything under the sheets... Of all the ways Omi had imagined seeing Ken naked for the first time, this hadn't ever occurred to him. Of course, what he'd always imagined was a romantic and loving Ken ready to teach him love, not a drunk Ken ready to pass out.

Omi clenched his teeth, determined to ignore it and wrapped his arms around Ken's waist and chest, trying to pull him up out of the bed while supporting him. He wasn't sure what happened, maybe he'd slipped and lost his balance, but he found himself flat on the bed with Ken's naked body squashed to his. "God! You're heavy, Ken! Get off of me!"

"You don't really want me to, do you?"

"What?" Omi's struggle to get free ceased in his confusion.

"You don't really want me to leave, do you?" Ken whispered again, his lips brushing lightly over Omi's collarbone.

Omi gulped and–hardly able to believe what was happening–shook his head. "N-no...but you _should_ go." Omi _did not_ want this to happen if it was just because Ken was drunk.

Ken laughed softly and kisses sucked and nibbled at Omi's lips in a heavenly show of affection that left the boy feeling dizzy and warm. "I thought you wanted this. You're not very good at hiding it. You jump guiltily every time I say your name. It's rather cute." Ken's tongue slid from perfect lips to slip into Omi's unprotesting mouth.

His taste was sweet and warm and exactly as Omi had always thought he'd taste...and he didn't taste _at all_ like beer. For the first time Omi realized what he should have before, that Ken didn't smell like alcohol and when he'd spoken last he'd sounded completely sober. "Ken?...were you faking before?"

Ken smiled, his kisses halting for a moment so that he could smile down into Omi's deep blue eyes. "Of course."

"Why?"

Ken shrugged. "I dunno...wanted a back-up excuse in case I was wrong about you. You _do _want me, don't you?"

Omi blushed deeply and–hardly trusting his own daring–reached up to tangle his fingers in Ken's soft hair before kissing him deeply. "Yes! It's all I've dreamed of for months!"

With a smile and a quick kiss Ken climbed out of the bed and walked over to lock the door.

✉

Later, Ken held in his arms knowing the pain the boy had gone through, being a virgin, he wanted to soothe whatever pain he'd caused and he snuggled the boy to his chest, leaving tender kisses on the boy's bruised lips and closed eyelids. "Are you okay, Kitten?"

"Mmhmm..." Omi snuggled deeper into Ken's arms. "I love you..."

Ken froze, his arms stiffening though he quickly forced himself to relax. "I..." Soft snores rescued him from having to finish the deadly sentence. So, completely unsure of how he truly felt besides bewildered, Ken slipped into a light sleep with the boy curled tightly around his body.

It would be alright. He was leaving in a couple of hours and wouldn't be back for a long, long time. Probably never. That way, he'd never have to deal with those three poisonous words, never have to return them. Never have to think about them.

✉

Stretching slowly with a wide jaw-cracking yawn, Omi sat up in bed running fingers through his blond love-tangled hair. He was sore in places he was sure he didn't want to mention but it felt really good. He sighed contentedly and turned toward Ken.

No Ken.

Omi brushed his fingers over the sweat-stained sheets and found them cool to the touch. He'd been gone for a while...Omi felt no alarm, only mild curiosity, for the moment he just wanted to stay in bed and think on the events of the night before. Maybe he'd gone to get a shower. Breakfast. Omi knew that Ken liked his coffee first thing in the morning.

Long minutes passed with Omi curled up under the blankets, his blue eyes obstinately half-closed against the insistent morning light. Finally, the cheerful sunlight streaming in through Omi's somewhat girly lacy curtains, warmed the room too much for comfort and Omi reluctantly crawled from under the sheets.

He rummaged n his dresser drawer for clean boxers and a shirt and, with another wide yawn, stepped out of his room in search of his wayward lover. The bathroom was a dud, no gloriously nude Ken bathed in a shower of crystalline droplets of steaming water. Not even a partially nude Ken.

Pouting at that, Omi headed for the kitchen. Still, no Ken. Coffee hadn't even been brewed yet. Yohji was there, making eggs, bacon, and herbal tea–he was trying to get Aya to cut down on his vices, caffeine foremost–and spilling cigarette ashes all over the place.

"Good morning, Yohji." Omi paused, he didn't know if asking the question on the tip of his tongue would be too obvious or not. Finally, he shrugged, deciding it would, but also that he didn't much care. "Have you seen Ken this morning? I can't find him."

Yohji gave one of his classic casual shrugs. "Not seen him since about three this morning. He went on a mission, big one. North Ireland, didn't you know?" The blond's comely features clouded over. "Schuldig's all pissed because he knows it's a death mission and Ken went and threw himself into it." He took an unconsciously violent puff of his cigarette and went back to his cooking.

Omi felt sick and not just because the smoke and the smell of bacon were a horrible combination. "A mission?"

"Yea." The blond mercenary grimaced. "Going after some of those Resistance zealots that have been struggling with the British–bloody stuff." His emerald green eyes took on a distant almost furious expression. "Cocky bastard _knows_ there's a slim to none chance he's coming back and doesn't care what that means to us! Starts talking some _shit_ about how he's never really fit in with us–always been somehow outside the group...fucking prig.

"Oh." Omi turned to walk back to his room so that he could scream, or cry, or sulk, or whatever the Hell it was that he felt like doing, in private. But his legs gave out after only two steps and he found himself confronted with a very distorted view of the floor.

"Kid!" Yohji was there in an instant, picking him up, checking him for injury, for fever, checking his blue eyes for dilation. "Jesus, are you okay? Say something."

Omi was only half cognizant of the command but still he wondered idly what to say. What _could_ he say? That he'd been taken advantage of? That he'd been the willing victim of a cruel rapist? That he'd thought that his experiences last night had been about _love_?

The words came to him then, not to his mind–he didn't have to think them–they were just there falling from his lips. "Kill me."

"W-what? Omi, what's wrong?"

"Kill me...please."

Yohji was shaking his head a smoking cigarette tucked forgotten behind his ear. "Omi...what's going on? Tell me, please!"

Omi turned away from him, knowing that he'd not get what he wanted from Yohji. Yohji kept trying to get him to talk, to say anything, he couldn't. It wasn't that he didn't want to, he just couldn't.

"Aya! Aya, get in here now! Omi's...there's something wrong with him–I don't know–get in here!" Omi turned back to look at him, the blond looked worried and scared, almost like he was about to cry. Omi wondered distantly why _he_ wasn't crying, he knew he should be but...nothing. Maybe he was in shock.

Aya came, barely dressed but with stoic eyes. Those eyes calmed Omi, the lack of fear or anger or 'I-told-you-so' tranquilized him into something like lucidity. They walked him to his room and tucked him into bed.

His bed where..."No!" It was a denial, definitely a denial, but the simple two-letter word was twisted into something almost unrecognizable–animal–filled with terrible despair and heartache. If a human soul were ever to shatter, that would be the sound it made.

Fighting against Aya and Yohji's arms with a strength borne of desperation, Omi howled his pain out with still-dry eyes. His knuckles cracked, sending pain shooting up into his shoulder, when he hit Yohji's jaw. At some point after that, the blond kicked his legs out from under Omi and then wrapped his arms around him while the redheaded warrior used a well-practiced maneuver to knock Omi unconscious. The boy accepted the oncoming darkness gratefully.

✉

"What do you mean, he just went nuts?"

"This is _Omi_ we're talking about." Yohji pointed to the huge swollen black and purple bruise on his jaw. "Omi doesn't do this for no good reason."

Schuldig nodded slowly, fiery hair falling over his face. "And you want me to look around n his little blond head to see what's wrong." He stated flatly, his eyes hard.

Yohji turned to look at Aya, seeming uncomfortable in what he was asking the German to do. "Yes...but...only because we want to help him." Aya nodded in silent confirmation of his lover's words.

"Can't do it."

Yohji looked like he was about to launch himself at his leader, Aya stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. His violet eyes flashed dangerously at Schuldig and then returned to their stoic expressions. "Would you care, sir, to explain exactly _why the hell not_?"

"Because I already _know_ what happened, You would too, if you thought about it calmly."

"We _have_ thought about it calmly! We've been thinking about it all fucking morning!" Yohji snarled wrathfully.

"Wow. Blonds really are stupid, two prime examples in just one morning. Yohji, what had you and Omi talked about just before he got sick?"

Yohji frowned, "Nothing really...he said good morning and then he asked about..." He trailed off and then turned to look at his lover with hard emerald eyes that bespoke a need to strangle something. "Ken."

Understanding dawned in Aya's eyes and then anger again welled in him. "One last bloody conquest before he bloody goes off to fucking die–didn't even tell Omi he was leaving, probably told him he _loved_ him. That bastard! That–" Aya reached up a hand to cover Yohji's mouth, silencing the blond's tirade.

"Go smoke a cigarette, calm down. Our anger at Ken can't help Omi at all. We can't get to Ken from here, we can only comfort out littlest brother, okay?" He said softly, his palm sliding over to cup Yohji's cheek once it was established that he wasn't going to yell anymore.

After a moment Yohji nodded and bent to kiss his comrade softly. "Alright. You're right. I'll be back in a little bit." He tried a small smile and then left the room, already pulling his cigarettes and lighter from his pocket.

Aya turned to Schuldig. "Ken _will_ come back, won't he? This is all some stupid trick you're playing." Schuldig shrugged and stretched a little in his chair, leaving Aya to continue. "Look, you're a bitch Schuldig but you don't give a damn about any Irish zealots and you're not liekly to send a member of your elite team to die by them. Tell me what's going on."

"What do you want me to say, Aya? You want me to just nod and smile and say 'Oh, I was just being a mean little boy.' Is that really what you want to hear?" He asked, his accent thickening with his anger.

Aya's eyes were cold. "I don't care _what_ you say as long as it's the truth and it explains what the Hell is going on. I _know_ you wouldn't callously send one of us on a death mission for Goddamned Ireland!"

Schuldig nodded. "Alright. Alright, I'll explain. Ken doesn't think he belongs–really belongs–to Weiss so...I've set it up so that he'll have a lot of time to sit and think about what a family we've been to him. His boinking out Omi and thereby causing said family to want him dead wasn't part of the plan."

Aya stared blankly. "No one else knows this?"

Schuldig shook his head. "Nope. And don't worry, the Irishmen will make sure he gets all the beating he needs. That's in the plan too."

Taking in the amused smile on Schuldig's lips, Aya scowled. "You're a bastard."

"Yes, but I don't really see what my parents' marital status has to do with this."

✉

Omi woke up–denying that he was awake once again in the real world with all of his being and losing all the same–in a room that wasn't his own. Aya's, he decided after a moment when he actually bothered to look around himself. Yohji and his stock lover must have moved him to this room when he'd shown to be so desperate to get away from his own room.

When he crawled out of the blankets eh found hot tea waiting for him on the night-stand next to a box of pocky. The latter he suspected was from Yohji and the former from Aya. With a pouty expression Omi pulled a stick of pocky from the box and sucked on it. He _deserved_ candy, dammit!

He sighed heavily, deciding he wasn't quite ready to face his Weiss brothers, he sat down on the edge of the bed instead with pocky sticking like one of Yohji's cigarettes from his lips. _Ken...Ugh! That jerk!_

Why had Omi ever fallen for such and asshole? "I hate him..." Omi nodded to himself. "I hate him." He took a deep steadying breath to confirm his words and took a sip of his tea, ready to get on with his life.

✉

"Hey, Omi! Get up! You're going to be late for school!"

Omi gasped in an alarmed breath and shout of of bed, grabbing his school uniform and jumping into it in moments before rushing out of the room. A tan arm looped around his waist to halt him and Omi could hear Yohji's familiar laugh. "Calm down! I'm just joking, it's Saturday, you don't have school."

Omi took a deep breath and tried to glare at his comrade but the chocolate covered rice ball that he was offered a moment later caused the expression to fritter away and transform into a wide and somewhat greedy smile. "You're so mean!" He said, playfully swatting his friend upside the head while simultaneously slipping the rice ball into his pocket.

Yohji was glad to see the smile, glad to see that Omi was doing so well only eight months after what Ken had done to him. Yohji still got angry when he thought about it–Omi wasn't like the rest of them, he still had so much innocence left and Kne had tried to _steal_ it. The bastard.

"That guy Ryuchi came by again–he's cute–I think he likes you."

Omi blushed and looked down at his feet which he noticed for the first time, only had one sock. "We just study together...that's all."

Yohji grinned. "Yea, Aya and I like to study too."

Omi glared and the expression lasted a little longer this time. "We're both studying hard so that we can get into college and–has anyone checked the mail for acceptance letters?"

Yohji shrugged. "Haven't checked the mail all week." He said casually lighting up a cigarette. Omi snatched it from his lips and dropped it into a nearby vase of flowers commandeered from the shop. It made a soft sizzle as it hit the water. "No coffee for Aya means no tobacco for you." He reminded sternly.

Yohji pouted and nodded while Omi went back to his room to put his pajamas back on. He was going _right_ back to bed...after he went and checked the mail for his letters.

The box was over crammed, no one had checked it since Omi had the previous Saturday he supposed. He had to wonder exactly how it was that any of their bills got paid. He grabbed the whole mess of jumbled envelopes and headed into the house.

He tossed them onto the kitchen table and fixed a cup of coffee with lots of sugar and cream before returning to the table. Sitting down with a stretch and a yawn he started to sort the mail out loud. "Junk. Bill for Schuldig. Porn for Yohji. Junk. Bill for Aya. Gun mag for Yohji. Victoria's Secret...Yohji. Letter for–me?"

Omi took a long sip of his coffee and stared down at a ragged-looking envelope. There was no return address only "Omi" in carefully forged letters above the address. Should he open it? It might be some sort of trick. He set it slightly aside and went through the rest of the mail. Only one college had responded and it had been a denial. Omi's attention was again directed to the letter with his name on it.

What was the worst that could happen? He picked up the letter and resolutely refused to think about the answer to that question. He slipped the hand-written letter out of the envelope warily, searching carefully for any signs of harmful powders and such. When he spotted nothing, he opened the letter. The first few words were enough to make Omi want to burn it immediately.

That prick was writing to him? He was still fucking _alive_? _What the fuck are you up to, Ken?_ Omi took another long sip of his coffee and started to read

**Dear Darling,**

** Surprised to hear from me? I'll bet you're sitting drinking coffee–yawning  
sleepily.**

Omi paused to smirk at that, was he trying to play a mind game with him? Too fucking late, stupid asshole–Omi didn't want any part of him. With a scowl Omi continued to read on.

**Just to let you know, I'm going to be home soon. I'm kind of awkward and  
afraidthat time has changed your point of view.**

** How're you going to see me now? Please don't see me ugly, babe, because  
I knowI've let you down in oh so many ways. How're you going to see me  
****now? Since we've been on our own? Are you going to love the man when the  
man gets home?**

Omi jumped when a drop of liquid fell over the words, blurring the ink. He realized then that he'd started crying, after eight months, this was the first time he'd cried over Ken. He realized also that he _would_ still love Ken, no matter what he'd pretended in the long months the man had been gone.

**Listen darling, now I'm heading for the west, straightened out my head but  
my old heart is still a mess. Yes, I'm worried honey, guess that's natural  
though. It's likeI'm waiting for a welcome sign, like a hobo in the snow.**

** And just like the first time, we're just strangers again, I might have  
grown out of style in the place I've been. And just like the first time, I'll be  
shaking inside, when Iwalk in the door there'll be no place to hide.**

It was signed simply "Ken" and Omi brushed his fingertips over the carefully composed letters as if through them he could touch Ken again. He wiped at the tears that poured from his blue eyes. "Ken..."

Yohji wandered into the kitchen at that moment and frowned at Omi sitting with his head bowed, blond locks obscuring his face, a letter held loosely in his hand. "You all right, Kid? Did you not get accepted? I'm sure there'll be other colleges..."

Omi didn't say anything and Yohji meandered over to glance over his shoulder at the tear-stained letter. What he saw made his blood boil. He was coming back? Hadn't Schuldig said he was probably going to die? Dammit, Yohji wanted the bastard _dead_! And he was going to cuddle up to Omi and pretend he loved him? "Sonuvahbitch!"

Yohji snatched the letter from the boy's hand and crumpled it. "Tell me you're not going to believe his bullshit again, Omi. He's just messing with your head!"

Omi didn't move at first but after several heartbeats he slowly raised his eyes to Yohji's. "Why'd you do that?" He asked, as if he couldn't believe the letter had been destroyed.

"Omi!" Yohji insisted, looking slightly panicked.

"I...I don't think it's bullshit..." Omi whispered in a tiny voice, looking back down at his empty hand.

"What?"

"I don't think he's lying." Omi said again, raising his voice and his eyes so that the blond assassin could hear his words and see his resolve in those assured blue orbs.

Yohji stared at him for a moment, his fist clenched around the letter. He looked like he was going to snap Omi in half or at least yell something _really_ obscene. Instead, when his mouth opened he yelled in a strained voice: "Aya!"

The redheaded swordsman appeared soon after, immediately working to soothe his lover, "What's going on?" He asked turning from a blathering Yohji to Omi.

"I got a letter from Ken. He's coming back." Omi shrugged, "Yohji's got it now if you can pry it from his hands."

Aya frowned and held out his hand to his lover. With an almost childish pout Yohji handed him the letter, in all its crumpled glory. With a quick and stoic eyes Aya read over the letter and quietly handed it back to Omi. "Okay."

Yohji exploded. "Okay? What the _fuck_! Aya, you _can't_ believe what Ken says! Am I the only one that's still sane?"

"Better than being the only one that's still straight." Schuldig said from behind Omi. "Ken's coming home?" Everyone nodded. "Okay." He smiled slightly and walked away while Yohji spluttered incomprehensibly.

"It's _not_ okay!"

Aya sighed an ran his fingers through the blond's long golden hair. "How about, just this once, you go smoke...try to calm down? I'll talk to Omi." He kissed him, his lips teasing Yohji's until the swordsman felt the larger man's pulse quicken.

He released him and gave the senselessly grinning assassin a helpful push toward the door. He turned to regard Omi with a steady gaze once the blond was gone. "Be careful. Don't let him break you again. It nearly killed Yohji to see you so sad. You're our brother and we love you."

Omi nodded and smiled, clutching his letter. "Thank you, and...I love–"

"You Goddamned bastard! I'm going to kill you!" Omi and Aya's collective eyes were drawn instantly to the door and the cursing heard from outside.

"I think Ken's home."

Omi nodded and bolted through the door with Aya close behind. Yohji was on top of a huddled form that Omi assumed was Ken, fists flying while the prone person under his blows tried to cover his face with his arms. "Yohji! Stop it!"

Yohji screamed a random curse and refused, his blows becoming more forceful. Omi picked up a rock, sent an apologetic glance at Aya, and took aim. Throwing it, he hit Yohji square on the temple, the resulting disorientation from the blow knocked the infuriated blond over, causing his punches to stop.

Aya rushed to Yohji and Omi to Yohji's victim. It was ken, his hair was longer and his bloody face held a beard but it was Ken. "Come on inside, I'll clean you up." He helped him up and lead him to sit in a chair at the kitchen table while he filled a bowl with water and soaked a clean cloth in it.

Returning to Ken, he wrung the cloth out and dabbed the blood away from the cuts and bruises on his face. He looked different somehow, he had some new scars–the cut on his brow which was the source of most of the blood on his face promised to turn into another one–and a beard, but that wasn't it. He seemed more...peaceful. Like he'd finally accepted something about himself.

"It's good to be home."

Omi snorted, "Yea, nothing like getting the shit knocked out of you by the ones that _really _care to welcome you home." He sighed and shook his head. "Yohji's still pissed about what you did."

"You didn't used to curse so much, Omi."

"Yea? Well...a lot's changed about me."

"Oh..." Ken focused intently on Omi's eyes for a moment. "Did you get my letter?"

Omi nodded. "Just this morning..." He waved a hand to the crumpled paper sitting at the end of the table where he'd left it before his run out into the yard and subsequent rescue of Ken. "Yohji got to it." He said in explanation for it's ragged appearance.

"I...I didn't know if it would get to you and–I'd hoped it would but I didn't know–most of the others...I tried to write you hundreds of times–mostly stupid things like how my day was going–never sent them–coward I guess. I've got them though." He was opening up his dusty bag. "I'm sorry, I think they got a little messed up when Yohji tackled me. Sorry."

His flustered nervous rambling halted for a moment while he fumbled with the knot on his bag and then dumped it out on the kitchen table. No clothes poured out, no combs or toothbrushes, no weaponry only dozens of letters. Omi doubted, by the sheer volume of the letters, that anything else could have fit into the bag.

"I-I wrote every day but sometimes I thought of something else or something happened that I thought you should know. A couple of them are just sketches that I thought you might think were pretty–they're not that good. I-I always intended for you to h-have them b-but I was scared–I brought them though, so you could read them now."

Omi stared at the letters piled on the table, there were hundreds of them! Ken must have written on average six a day, probably more. "Ken...why did you write this many letters?"

Ken looked like a lost and confused little boy. "B-because I didn't know how to say it."

"To say what?"

Ken looked down at his lap, "That...I'm sorry and that, I love you so much." He looked up at him and smiled unsurely, the livid bruise on his cheek marring it just a bit.

Omi found himself smiling as well, an invisible weight that had been holding him under pressure for the past eight months was lifted of his shoulders and he leaned forward, his face close to Ken's "This isn't a joke? You're serious, right?"

Ken nodded slowly and reached up tentatively to slide his fingers through Omi's hair. "Very. I...I love you Omi. I thought about you constantly and please, please, please forgive me." He whispered softly.

Omi smiled, his blue eyes lighting up. "I forgive you. I love you." With a grin he leaned forward fully and kissed him softly just a Yohji came in and glared. Aya flicked his ear and he whined.

"He needs his ass kicked!"

Aya shook his head. "Later. Come on, let's leave them alone."


End file.
